


Earth and the Stars

by takedalullaby



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Childish naivety, Descriptions of gore, F/F, F/M, I want s4, Idiots in Love, Long, M/M, Mild Innuendo, Mild canon divergence, More violent, Post S3, Rayla swears, Rayllum!, Will contain sexuality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25053691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takedalullaby/pseuds/takedalullaby
Summary: A darker take on post s3. The path to peace will be longer and harder than what is shown in the show.Will take a while to write.
Relationships: Callum & Ezran (The Dragon Prince), Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. Pilot

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the shorter chapter, it came of necessity. Future chapters will be longer. Still ironing out the characters.
> 
> Words: 2,532, Characters: 14,439. Written using libreoffice.

A gust blew through the forest, whistling as it raced through the landscape, all while ripping leaves from their trees and uprooting plants. Not long after the gust had dissipated, another filled its niche, bringing along with it a chorus of branches snapping and loose rocks colliding with each other.

The sun filtered through the rapidly waving branches, painting the ground with rapid flashes of yellow and orange and green, all forming a severe impression of a waning fall evening, the apparent discord between the abundance of light and the lack of warmth as disturbing as ever.

But there was no sustained cold, for the next gust bought across a sickly, humid sort of warmth that pushed on everything it could touch, implementing an oppressive dearth of movement.

With such an oppressive atmosphere, few animals would have dared to venture too far from their shelters, only leaving to scavenge for food in the night, when the winds had calmed and sun slept. The effect on a human would have been unimaginable, and the intense discomfort would have thrown off even the most determined.

Despite it all, Rayla, with her eyes closed, was hunched up against a grand oak that stood out in size from the trees surrounding it. The clearing around her meant that there were no trees to break the wind.

Yet, with her eyes closed and her forehead tensed, she appeared to be completely unaffected.

Her breaths were rhythmic and controlled, seemingly providing an anchor against the irregularity of the forest’s heartbeat. Each breath was smooth, similar to the runic-shaped object she held in her hand.

A gust flew past again, bringing with it a severe cold. Rayla’s breath hitched and her hands flexed in odd directions, causing her to almost lose her grip on the object.

Instinctively clutching it in her hand yet tighter, Rayla tensed her faced, still breathing in her rhythmic, almost lifeless and mechanical, way. Then, the creases on her forehead began to dissipate and her eyes flashed open with a sigh.

Still maintaining the methodical passes of air, her head was now arched upwards her eyes facing – no, searching – for something in the sky. Her hands were by her side – not far from her sword – but nevertheless completely useless.

She was completely helpless – totally vulnerable.

Tension held in the air around her, as if anything were to attack her at any moment, and without prior warning. Nothing did.

Neither the chirp of a bird could be heard, nor could an animal be seen. Only the wind could be heard, its drone drowning out all else. Its ubiquity made one doubt if there was anything but the wind.

It toyed with hope and destroyed any line of linear thought. But it did not effect Rayla.

It was clearly inhospitable to anything that might’ve been able to pose a threat to her vulnerable state. There were the trees, of course, but she had guessed that they wouldn’t pose a threat.

The forest was the very definition of isolated. Elven settlements were not to be found for miles around. The dragon lair at the storm spire was shielded from elves by means of this vast and awful forest. It served to separate her from the responsibilities of her power, for which she used trained proxies instead.

Elves had not dared to sneak across the forest in ages, and, as the gears of time had slowly worn away this anomaly, the forest was no longer guarded.

Somehow defying the natural reluctance to enter the forest, a winged figure was heading straight towards the clearance. The scales on its wings were intricate, but its bodice was abnormally small for an animal with such well defined wings.

The figure held its wings in an arched state, seemingly gaining speed for an attack. Below, Rayla did not move an inch, remaining in her helpless slumber. The small dragon began to flap its wings, preparing itself for a landing. Then it was pulled on by something invisible, and it landed, kicking up dust as it did.

But this was no dragon. It ran towards Rayla.

“Rayla! I missed you so much”, he exclaimed, while running towards her. There was no response.

“Rayla, what’s wrong?”

Then, after no response, he demanded, hopelessly, that she wake up.

He took the hand the held the runic object, and closed it into his own hand. Her eyelids started to flutter, and she groaned, as if she had been awoken from a deep slumber.

“Callum.” she choked out. “Was I attacked? Am I safe?”

“Take a look around, Rayla. There’s no-one here but me and you”, he said, comforting her, while motioning to the soaring trees surrounding the clearance. “You’re safe now, and that’s what matters.”

“I was so scared that I would’ve been found”, she said quickly, reluctant to admit her fear. “Thankfully you’re here and that’s over.”

“Are you alright, though? _That_ scared the hell out of me, Rayla.”

Ignoring him, Rayla grabbed his neck and brought him into a tight hug. There were tears on the edge of her eyes, which she promptly wiped away. Callum’s face shown of surprise, thrown off by the magnitude by which she held him. He had never known her to be this physically affectionate.

“Do I see tears on the edges of your eyes?”, Callum teased, trying to lighten the mood, but there were tears on his eyes as well. Knowing that his remark had fell flat, he braced himself for her to begin backpedaling.

She simply rolled her eyes and attempted to look annoyed, but a grin escaped her.

“Mind getting out of this chilly nightmare and into the cave that is literally right there?”, she asked, pointing at a cavern that was roughly 20 feet away.

The wind blew again and Callum blushed.

“What’s the matter now?” The wind had not affected Rayla’s mind, but it hadn’t been kind to her clothing.

Callum tried to choke out a word or two, but the wind interrupted again, silencing both. His cheeks grew redder. They walked in knowing silence to the cave, restless to talk with the other.

The storm spire could be seen towering in the distance, its imposing figure a beacon of elven power. The spire was a lot larger than it appeared from this distance, but, to Rayla and Callum, their companion was much larger than something so distant.

As soon as they entered the cave and the sound of the wind died down, Callum started to ask questions.

“What were you doing hunched against the tree? What was the object in your hand – why were you even able to stay out there for so long?”, he rattled off quickly.

“Slow down and try again”, a surprised and somewhat reluctant look upon her face.

“Sorry – I got a little ahead of myself” he apologized, and then continued with his question. “What were you doing hunched up against the tree with that runic object? Is that even a rune?”, he asked examining the shape of the object closely.

“Yes, it’s a rune. And it was just a moonshadow thing”, sadness tinging the edge of her dismissive tone.

“You were clearly uncomfortable while doing it; I saw you. It’s has to be more than just another ritual thing.” He was of his typical defiance, but his expression softened as he recognized the need to let her act in her own accord.

Rayla groaned in frustration and turned away. She couldn’t expose her discomfort with the magic – it would expose too great a vulnerability for someone of her station. _This is the first time we’ve met in months – he should know_ , she thought. _But I can’t – can’t let anyone deprive me of my strength._

It wore her down occasionally, though – in hindsight – she did appreciate the times he interfered out of concern.

Interfacing with Callum’s concern always brought Rayla to face with some uncomfortable truths.

“What’d you say again? I can’t hear you through the wind.”, she said, while pretending to strain her ears.

Callum rolled his eyes, but was not irritated. He would stick through to the conclusion, regardless of how many obstacles he would have to dodge. He asked the question again.

 _So pushy_ , she thought.

“Of course it’s not a ritual ‘thing’, dummy. It’s just just a moonshadow technique to keep warm in this fucking weather.”

“Oh”, he said, disappointed. He had hoped to get more from her, despite her reluctance to detail her abilities. Yet, he neither pushed on nor attempted to reason with her, for he had learned, through his brother, the need for letting people acclimatize.

The first time he had met his brother after separating into Xadia and the Human Kingdoms, he had bombarded him with questions and pushed him incessantly on revealing all that he had undergone in Katolis. Callum found his brother unwilling to answer any of his queries, and in a hurry to cut his visit short. It had filled him with regret; the dulling of an experience intended to be vivid and warm posed a heavy loss to him.

Still, he was concerned and determined.

“What are you looking at?”, Rayla asked. Callum, noticing his tensed forehead, loosened it and glanced over.

“Nothing, I was just admiring … the patterns on the wall.”

Rayla frowned. He didn’t hide his emotions often. She didn’t like what happened when he did.

“So … what did you do on your vacations?”, Rayla asked, hoping to shift away from the matter at hand.

“Those weren’t vacations, Rayla. I was an emissary.”

“Still calling them that? Being fancy and proper about it isn’t going to change the nature of the job.” Rayla had a grin of familiarity on her face.

“I suppose I still have a thing or two to learn from you”, Callum admitted.

“Huh?” She knew he wasn’t talking of emissaries and vacations.

“The Xadian continent – it is hopelessly divided”, he muttered, dejectedly. Suddenly, his expression changed and his voice began to rise.

“I feel like I’ve created more frustration than actually helped people”, he vented. “I’m just there, helpless among the elves.”

“I told you, Callum: there is no unity among the elves.”

“I know I should have listened to you”, pausing to gather his thoughts, “But isn’t there at least a chance that the dislike of humans could bring unity?” Despite the hope, defeat was written on his face.

“No”, Rayla responded curtly, signaling the end of the discussion. She decided not to continue leading him on, believing that it was a ploy to evoke guilt from her. She began to grow angry, her perception of Callum quickly giving way to a dreadful familiarity.

It had started off badly enough for her, with her being found in a vulnerable, disgusting state. Now she was without ground, dejected and confused at the apparent discord between what she had expected of Callum and the person in front of her.

The person in front of her wants to show that I am weak, she thought. He wants me to believe I cannot control what is rightfully mine. She saw Callum glance over at her inquisitively. A look of innocence.

They stared blankly, an uncomfortable boredom bonding them from moving, but stopping them from talking to the other. Then Callum began to speak.

“I was thinking of the governance of the dragon queen -”, he began, but was abruptly cut off.

“I don’t want to talk about her.”

“I could tell you about the corrupted sun nexus. Or tidebound elves – they’re so … different. Maybe you could tell me of the dragongua-”, interrupted yet again.

“I’m not in the damned mood to talk – would’ya please stop pestering me?”

“Ye-yes. Sure – of course”, Callum blubbered, tripping over himself to backpedal.

Callum could see that Rayla was confused, mildly antagonistic towards him but also trusting, evidenced by her lack of a consistent pattern of behavior. His father had taught him how to recognize behavioral patterns, and extrapolate from that.

Only if he could at least get a clue. He wished Rayla wasn’t nearly as skeptical as she was.

* * *

Rayla, lost in thought, returned to find Callum asleep next to her, his drool leaking on to her shoulder. She didn’t mind. And looking at him, at his immobile face and his complacent expression, it brought out thoughts she had repressed earlier.

Now, feeling empowered, she began to let go of suspicion, fully taking into account his earnest attitude to her.

But she felt that she could still not tell him, for she could not bring herself to hear from him what she already knew.

 _Flap._ She felt lost, and longed to go back to the dragonguard which she despised so much. _Flap._ But she knew that now she was out, any illusion holding her to its vision of a home was irreparably damaged. _Whoosh._

He heart stopped, her line of thought interrupted by a surge of fear.

The sounds. They registered with her. A great flying beast – a dragon, which she knew was mounted by soldiers. She had been found.

Callum slept besides her, completely oblivious to the total panic she was feeling. There wasn’t enough time to leave the cave with him.

“Wake up! We need to leave, NOW”, almost screaming at him. They had to take whatever chance they could hiding within the cave.

As soon as he came to, Rayla shouldered him, and began to walk him deeper into the cave. Not long before they had walked far enough for it to become blindingly dark, the sound of footsteps reverberated from the location of the entrance.

Rayla pulled both of them into a tight nook.

Callum looked around, scanning for any threats, then asked “What’s going on?” Rayla simply shook her head and placed a finger to her lips.

Eventually, the sound of the footsteps faded to a din, then completely disappeared as the elves exited the cave. Their voices shown of disappointment.

“Do you smell that, too?” Callum asked.

“I would much rather not.”

Callum commanded Dux, as if he were ordering an intelligent, living being. Tips of lightning shot out from the his outstretched hand. They pointed towards the rooms of the cave.

“It’s coming from that room.”

And so they entered the room. And the smell intensified, now mixed with an incessant buzzing. They both stood still, surprised and shocked.

A body lay in front of them.

By its looks, it had been there for a few months, left to decompose among the cold stones. Half its face was gone, bones jutting out of places the flesh had been eaten through. In the place of its eyes were a ball of fleas, moving with a violent intensity.

On its body was a straight gash, leading to its groin. The blood around it was crusted, and its perpetrator long gone. There were incisions along the gash, molded most like those of human teeth.

Its face – oh, its face – was a mangled mess of fleas, blood and brain. The brain that represented a person full of ambitions and dreams now lay, consumed.

The lightning reflected off the blood, setting the room awash in a deadly red.


	2. A Long Journey Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. Summary: They fly.

A  
Long Journey Back

The trees grew sparse and the intense gusts calmed to a mild-mannered breeze that wallowed over the forest floor. It still felt humid and repressive, but the sky had become clear and the sun remained moderate. The sound of trickling water was a constant; various small streams streaked through the landscape, shaped as if growing from the river like a tree.

A breeze whistled passed his ears, whispering to him. He couldn’t understand what it was trying to convey, but it was beautiful. Callum found himself trying to whistle back, engaging his chest instinctively. Little sound came out.

He glanced at Rayla. Her tangled, messy hair was flying in the wind – she didn’t seem to care. He thought she looked beautiful.

Her eyes flicked to the side, noticing Callum – he quickly turned away in response – but her true focus was elsewhere. She was looking at the very peak of the storm spire, her head frozen in a slight upwards tilt.

After half an hour had passed, she sighed and finally lowered her head, glancing furtively around her. The plains around her were no longer the dreamlike, idle surroundings that this stretch of land was known for, but were now interlaced with poignant reminders of horrors and losses past. While most of the magma warriors had been cleaned from the field, some corpses could be found at distance.

They could not avert their eyes from the rot that lay below them. These were the casualties that there victory had brought. Callum hoped that the wars were over now, and that all that was remaining was reunification with Xadia.

“The corpses, they have …”, Rayla began, pointing towards the exposed guts of the former warriors. “ _human_ insides”, she continued. While her voice was calm and analytical, her quivering arm betrayed her true mental state.

Callum stared at the corpse, a disgust rising within him. He quickly rushed into a question. “Why haven’t they been removed?” Rayla shrugged and they began to walk again, as if mutually agreeing to not dwell on the horrid sight any further.

Now at the footsteps of the spire, they looked back on the field. One last glance at the place that had changed everything. They both knew they wouldn’t be back here for a long time.

Breaking the silence, Callum wondered out loud. “I’ve always wondered how many stairs this has.”

“I’ll count on the way up.” And they went up the stairs, counting with the utmost focus. All that occupied their minds was the count of the stairs. Until Rayla peered over the edge and saw nothing but a misty white sea.

The memories of the fall came back to her, and she once again could feel the sense of impending death. The scream of the man she had tackled echoed in her ears, filling her with fear. She swore she saw a giant caterpillar appear in the mist below.

Her foot landed on a step that was slightly askew, and she briefly lost her balance and moved towards the open edge. Nevertheless, she planted her right foot firmly against the edge, such that it was parallel with the line between ground and void, and continued counting. When she finally raised her head, once again confident in her footwork, she spotted Callum seemingly ascending with a bounce to his step. He was completely oblivous.

She thought that was interesting, and it distracted her for the time being. Yet the fear pecked at her every time her eyes wondered to the void. When they reached the top, Callum noticed the tensed look on her face.

“What happened?”, he asked – and immediately cursed himself for not guessing such an obvious thing.

“Nothing, it’s … just that this makes me remember falling”, she replied nervously, scratching her arm.

“Rayla, I can wait, if you want”

“No – no. I would like to get off this cursed mountain as soon as possible”, she said quickly. The creases on her forehead resolved themselves and she walked over to the precipie, where the jutting rocks below promised a bloody end for anyone unlucky enough to go over. _Or tackled over_ , she thought. She spotted Callum unfurling his wings with a command then flapping them a few times. He looked as if astonished at something. In that moment, Rayla felt an outpouring of love for what she saw as her adorable doofus.

He noticed Rayla looking at him and sent back a shy grin with a shrug. The awkwardness of the situation was upon him. How were they going to launch themselves off the precipice without getting impaled? And he doubted she would take too well to flying off the spire again. _Why did I have to choose this_ _mountain_ _?_ he questioned himself.

He walked to the edge where Rayla was standing and began indirectly asking her if she wanted to fly off the spire with him; his message was impeded by his stuttering. She rolled her eyes, wrapped her arms around his waist – and they took off from the mountain.

Rayla had a clear view of all that lay below her – the streams, clouds and bodies – forming one giant canvas. She saw as it was on the day when _his_ army was crushed even as their opposition was little and pressed up against the spire. There lay a small mouth, flanked by rocks, from which the only way to ascend lay. That was where the soldiers from Lux Aurea. Specks of brown were sprinkled among the green sea, presumably made of the clothing of the dead. She looked back, catching the rhythmic pattern of Callum’s wings. She was suspended above the canvas of death.

They crossed the sea of green, passed through the crowd of trees, and only then, when the wind had subsided and Callum flew with ease, did either of them speak a word.

“How did you know what human insides looked like?”, he asked, his voice still slightly choppy from the wind.

“Remember the power structure of moonshadow society?”

He nodded – he had learned quite a bit from her letters.

“Status is determined by adherence to dogma. It happened when I was 14 – I never wanted to see anything like that again.” She paused and shivered.

“What happened?”

“A human had made it across the border. He was walking carefree when a group of elves seized upon him.” There was still more she had to tell, Callum guessed. Something bothering her more than simply seeing the guts of a random human.

“There has to be more you have to tell” he prodded. “I know there is.” He felt Rayla tense slightly and her grasp grow stronger.

“I followed them as they took him in some strange magical bonding bracelets. They weren’t too different from the ones that nearly made me loose my hand.” She moved her hand out of a grasp and flexed every finger. There was no residual pain at all, for which was thankful.

After letting her gather her thoughts, Callum asked a question. “I’ve never understood the moonshadow obsession with magical bindings – why can’t you just use a normal material?” She simply shrugged and replied “They never bothered to tell me.”

“Anyways, they took him to a secluded place, surrounded by tall shrubs. I was able to watch them from the trees. They threw him against a tree, and swung their swords so mercifully that it took them 8 swings to remove his head.” She paused, remembering the eight explosions of blood – the eight times laughter erupted. Her eyes never once closed during the execution; it was still vivid within her head.

Callum grew curious as to who this human was and why they were murdered in such a secretive way. “So it appears that this human was just murdered in _cold blood_?”, his emphasis growing on the last two words. He could not comprehend such cruelty.

“It wasn’t in cold… I mean they must have had a reason.” She thought she knew why it had happened, certainly, but she wasn’t going to share it. “We aren’t like that, Callum.”

“I know, I know. I don’t hold you responsible, but it’s just that moonshadow society doesn’t sound like the greatest place to grow up.” The questions were still with him, but he felt a greater concern for Rayla in the present. Her tribe seemed like it entrapped itself in a cycle of self-destructivity. He could see the effects on her, even if he did not dare to say it.

“I’m fine, Callum. It wasn’t nearly that bad.” However, she was not sure if she would ever be going back. And that decision would come to her if her parents magically returned from wherever they were hidden. She realized that she would take the strange glances of other elves over any return to a false sense of belonging.

Callum nodded, but his focus was now on the vast plains below. They flew just low enough that there was little cloud cover blocking their view. The endless rush of minuscule villages and farmsteads filled him with curiosity. He craved to meet the people who lived there, but knew well that there was little chance of that happening. His duties, albeit few, lay in the cities, with their leaders. It was not the most exciting part about being the only magical human.

His eyes drank in the beauty of the meadows, hills and farms before him, as if it was a platter for him to gorge on. He could not help but notice how different this countryside looked from that of Katolis. In contrast to the singular, plain nature of that countryside, uncultivated nature was somehow interwoven into the agricultural plains. They did not look to be in a perpetual fight with one another, but the boundaries between the two areas blurred and agriculture somehow occurred in the very place where uncultivated wildflowers were blooming.

It would be a long journey back, but certainly not one that he would despise.

In staring at the land before him, he was placed in a drunken stupor – a mechanical rhythm – of flapping his wings and letting the wind guide him. The path that had taken him to the Spire was untraceable now, as he had no idea of where he was going. However, it looked like they were closing in towards the border.

The landscape had begun to turn rockier, the hills higher and the atmosphere absurdly warmer. The fault line was beginning to show. Whatever might’ve caused such a split to occur was evidently of considerable force, as displayed by the mountains that seemed to rise menacingly towards him and fall just when they were about to disrupt his course. The greater question was of who held the power that could have accomplished all of this.

The sky was beginning to darken when he saw the first fire ravaging a field. The smoke filled the air, turning it a light brown. Small particles of ash rushed into their lungs and they broke into a fit of coughing, both struggling to continue pulling air into their lungs.

“Can you use your magic? We’re dropping!”, Rayla shouted, with growing alarm.

“The wings won’t let me!” He concentrated all his effort on continuing to continuing to move his arms. The sounds of the wings beating and his heart racing became one and the same. When they did make it out, the ground was a lot closer than Callum would’ve liked.

With ash clogging his lungs, he no longer wanted to fly. He shouted to Rayla, and she agreed. Neither wanted to continue after inhaling all that ash. He looked for the nearest village and began approaching for a landing.

He landed at a distance, such that he would not be seen, not until he pulled a disguise. _How am I going to disguise horns?_ , he asked himself, a little panicked. The landing, which he was still working on, caused them to stumble and land in a small bush. They scanned the area and were happy to report that no one had heard them.

“Uh… Rayla?”, he asked, too loudly. Rayla put a finger to his lips. “Where are we going to sleep?” Rayla pointed to an inn and Callum let out a laugh. He thought it was a joke, but Rayla simply pulled off her cloak and handed it to him.

“Cover your head and keep it down.” Callum was still skeptical, but he figured that she knew how to fool them, having lived among them for a majority of her life. They walked into the town, Callum following the footsteps in front of him. Rayla, looking at the moderately sized town, figured that they were not far from the border. A popular trade route was along the border, as major settlements were readily accessible.

When she saw the inn, she grabbed Callum’s arm and yanked him inside. She took a discreet glance at the room and noticed that they were in sunfire territory. The innkeep took one glance at Callum’s hooded figure and muttered “Oh”. She averted her eyes, and looked at Rayla. Everyone else had already done the same, and were staring at their hands.

“What room would you like?”

Rayla told her any one would suffice, and was given a room near the top. She pulled him up the stairs by the arm, and he struggled to keep his balance. Once in their room, she let go of his arm and began stripping off her armor with fervor. Callum didn’t know whether to look away or not; his lips began to twitch. Rayla noticed his discomfort. When she was done, he thought she was wearing the fewest layers he had ever seen her with.

“I thought you would’ve guessed we don’t wear armor all day”, she told him, mockingly. They took their spots on the bed, nearly collapsing of exhaustion. Rayla gave him a playful shove, knocking him over. Callum brought himself back up to shove her back, but she deflected. After some time, Rayla found herself pinning Callum to the bed. She let go and they both started into peals of laughter.

After a moment of rest, Callum asked why the disguise worked, exclaiming that his flat head was visible through the cloak. “It’s these fucking villagers – they all consider the shape and size of their stupid horns as status symbols. To not have horns – there is no greater taboo.” she said angrily. Past experiences had not left her favorable to rural elven populations.

“Wouldn’t they have recognized the differences in my ears, or even my gait?” He was still not sure that a taboo would prevent him from being recognized. He thought most people would be watching him out of the corners of their eyes and whispering to each other.

“Would that they actually look at you!” Callum’s perception of elves sunk even lower. First the brutal murder of the unknown human, then this. It seemed they were a lot weaker than he had thought them to be. Yet they were in a village, and he had always known to rural humans to be slightly _different_. He still wondered why Rayla had become angry at these villagers – it was unlike her.

The conversation eventually turned towards their past few months. Once again, it became a rant about how little had improved. The relationship between elves and humans was the same from what it was after the defeat at the spire. Even worse, Rayla felt as if she was wasting her time while the real threat to lasting peace still loomed free and unknown.

After talking only of superficial things for the next hour, drowsiness overcame them and they collapsed into a heavy sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made with FOSS - Libreoffice on GNU/Linux/Plasma
> 
> Word Count: 2,613. Chars: 14,661 minus # of paragraphs


End file.
